


The Mugging

by jankmusic



Series: The Drabble Collection [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Gun Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 08:51:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jankmusic/pseuds/jankmusic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly Hooper knew she wasn’t going to die, at least not at that moment, but that didn’t make the gunshot wound in her abdomen hurt any less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mugging

**Author's Note:**

> This is day 8 of the One-a-Day Challenge. This kind of got swept to the side after I had a plot epiphany with The Right Time. I'm only one more drabble behind, then I should be caught up!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock.

Molly Hooper knew she wasn’t going to die, at least not at that moment, but that didn’t make the gunshot wound in her abdomen hurt any less. As she lay on the ground gasping for breath and clutching her wound so she wouldn’t bleed out, she focused on the injury and what part of her anatomy had received damage.

 

She was almost certain that the bullet missed all the important organs, and she would be out of the hospital in a day or two.

 

And to think, this was all for her oversized purse that had more work than money in it!

 

\-----

 

“Did you hear that?”

 

“No.”

 

John shifted in his seat, looking through the windows of the cab, trying to see anything unusual. They were nearly half a block away from St. Bart’s, but had been stuck in traffic for almost ten minutes. Sherlock was antsy and couldn’t keep still beside him.

 

“I swear I heard a gunshot.”

 

“Probably in your head. Come on, we’re walking the rest of the way.” Sherlock threw money at the cabbie as he got out and impatiently waited for John to slide out. The two men walked for a minute or two in silence, John looking over his shoulder and around him with every other step. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was _wrong_.

 

And then it happened. The screaming was coming from in front of him.

 

“OH GOD! I NEED A DOCTOR! SOMEONE COME HELP, PLEASE!”

 

And like that, John Watson took off running, his army training kicking in as he dodged people on the sidewalk.

 

It didn’t take him long to reaching the screaming woman who had a small crowd of people standing around her. It looked like several individuals had their mobile phones out, and John assumed that they were calling 999. “I’m a doctor!” he gasped out, all to familiar with the location and proximity to St. Bartholomew’s Hospital. He chose to ignore the image of Sherlock falling that briefly flashed before his eyes.

 

“I’m a doctor, let me through, please!” he shouted, and eventually the crowd parted to let him through.

 

And then he froze for just half a second.

 

Because lying on the ground with a gunshot wound was Molly Hooper, and it looked like she was bleeding out fast.

 

John scrambled to his senses and knelt beside her. “Molly, can you hear me?”

 

“John?” she gasped, wrenching her eyes open. They were a little glassy, but she managed to focus her gaze on him.

 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he murmured, “You’re safe now. Let me see…” he said, carefully touching her hands before gently moving them and lifting her jumper and shirt to see the damage done to her abdomen.

 

Suddenly there was a shadow standing over John, but it moved quickly and John saw Sherlock kneeling on the other side of Molly Hooper. His brow was furrowed and her reached to cradle her cheek in his hand.

 

“Sherlock, let me see your scarf. Molly, I’m going to try and stop the blood flow or else you’ll bleed out, alright?” Sherlock immediately ripped the blue material from his neck and handed it to John without looking at him. As John set about trying to slow the bleeding, he saw Molly nuzzle Sherlock’s gloved hand.

 

“I’m not going to die,” Molly said as firmly as she could.

 

John was surprised to hear Sherlock let out a choked sob but he refused to look up. “You better not die on me, Molly Hooper.”

 

\-----

 

“I am a forensic pathologist! I’ve done autopsies with worse gunshot wounds than my own! And I always said I was going to die from old age beside my husband in a nice little room with my thirty cats at my feet.”

 

John couldn’t believe that Molly was sitting up in bed, albeit being propped up with a lot of pillows, telling jokes! She had come out of surgery to remove the bullet and patch up the little damage done fine, and she was pumped full of painkillers, but she was alert. Detective Inspector Lestrade was sitting beside her bed, chuckling softly as he finished off his notes in his notebook. John glanced from Molly and Lestrade to Sherlock, who was standing in the corner looking cool and indifferent.

 

John knew the consulting detective was shaken up.

 

And he also knew Molly was putting on a brave face.

 

“Thank you Molly. One last thing; you said he had writing on his shirt? Can you remember what it said?”

 

Molly squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and when she opened them, she nodded her head. “I think…I read after he shot me, but I think it said, “Danger Ahead”? It’s a bit ironic.”

 

When Lestrade left, Sherlock followed wordlessly, and John knew he was working the case. But this time the consulting detective could go on without his blogger, because Molly really needed company. They were alone for a few minutes before he moved to Lestrade’s vacated chair.

 

“Getting shot is terrifying,” Molly admitted without prompt.

 

“It is,” John said taking her hand that wasn’t attached to an IV. She squeezed it weakly, and John looked the other way as she began to cry softly, covering her face with her free hand.

 

\-----

 

John wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep with his head resting on Molly’s bed by her hip, but he didn’t move as he heard soft talking. It took him a moment to realize Sherlock had returned, and the sound of the door closing to the room had been what woke him up.

 

“Sherlock?”

 

“How long as he been asleep?”

 

The bed shifted and John had the feeling that Sherlock sat down beside Molly on the bed.

 

“Not sure. I was asleep before him.”

 

There was silence, and John nuzzled his head against his arms, close to falling asleep again. He wished he wasn’t in a position to eavesdrop, knowing his best friend needed privacy for emotional admissions, and he was sure Sherlock was about to have one.

 

He wasn’t wrong.

 

“Molly?”

 

“Hmm…”

 

“I…I almost lost you today.”

 

“You didn’t—”

 

“I desperately want to be the old man lying beside you with the cats in the nice room. I cannot imagine one day on this planet without you nearby, whether it’s in the morgue or the lab or in my flat. Please, please, please Molly Hooper, don’t scare me like this again.”

 

John open one of his eyes and saw Sherlock cradling Molly’s cheeks in both of his hands, kissing her gently. He closed his eyes again, not want to disturb the moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
